


let the world think otherwise

by fuscience



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, a tiny little kink, papa-papa-paparazzi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, I always thought my first paparazzi encounter would be because I'm sleeping with a billionaire, not because I was caught kissing the Arrow.” Or the press gets a hold of an incriminating photo and everyone's amused except Oliver and Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the world think otherwise

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic let's pretend there's a record of when Detective Lance took her in for questioning. Really I think she would have deleted it or Lance would have 'lost' it, but yeah. Need it for this.
> 
> Title comes from We Wear the Mask, a rondeau style poem by Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write, mostly because of the amazing feedback I always get from the Arrow community. It's a really great fandom to be a part of and I always love hearing from y'all and I just love y'all tons. Thank you!

 

Barry calls her at 8 am on a Saturday - practically a sin in Felicity's book so it's really a miracle she manages to answer him.

 

"Barry?" His name comes out garbled and muffled by the haze Felicity’s fighting.

 

"Felicity? Whoa. Hey, are you there?"

 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pulls the phone up to her ear. "Yeah, I'm here. I'm here."

 

"Uh, well, I saw the article and wanted to congratulate you. I had no idea Oliver and you had gotten together! It just reminded me it's been so long since we caught - "

 

"Wait - what? What article?" Felicity's confusion causes Barry to pause.

 

"On Starling Metro News. I um have a membership to the Vigilante Hero fan site and we get email updates everytime he’s in the news. There's a photo and everything." Of course Barry is a member of the fan club.

 

"Photo?" She's already unlocking her tablet and pulling up the feed she has on Hood media mentions.

 

"Don't worry! You can't even tell it's you. It just looks like a girl kissing a... Wanted criminal... On a dark rooftop." Barry trails off, "do you think Iris would kiss me on a dark rooftop? I don't think she's into the Flash. Or me, for that matter."

 

Felicity can hear the frown and puppy dog eyes in his voice as she finally reaches the correct Internet address.

 

"Barry. She thinks the Flash is annoying. Iris likes you just fine." The picture is blurry, but undoubtedly shows the Hood leaning down to kiss some blonde. Felicity glances over at her sweater from last night, thrown on the floor haphazardly and looks back to the photo of that same shirt edging up on her midriff, showing bare skin as Felicity had yanked Oliver into a deep, relieved kiss. She'll have to burn that sweater. She really loves that sweater. "Look... I've got to run damage control and -"

 

"Say no more. Do your thing and I’ll call you later."

 

"Yeah. Thanks for the unintentional heads up Barry."

 

The phone clicks ending the call. Giving a big sigh, Felicity rolls over to the other side of the bed and gives Oliver a shove.

 

"Wake up. We've got work to do."

 

There's a groan and  Felicity watches the hardened hero draw the blankets over his head, digging himself deeper into the bed. She smiles and leans over his back, lifting the edge of the blanket to see his bruised face. Oliver relaxes like this so rarely it pains her to pull him out of bed any given day. On the other hand, Felicity loves the various ways she gets to wake him up.

 

"Wakey, wakey, sleepy head."

 

Another groan and Oliver opens one eye, lazily reaching up to peck her on the lips. A slight blush warms Felicity's cheeks at the ease he shows her affection. Neither of them could really pinpoint when they became an 'us'. It started with him crawling through her window and sleeping on the couch before escalating to a duffel bag, then a drawer and a spot in her toothbrush holder, and, finally, a place in her bed. Six months later, if Oliver wasn't at the Foundry or QC he was most likely here.

 

"Five more minutes."

 

"I wish. Oliver, there's a problem." She taps his shoulder in warning, "Someone got pictures of us together and by us I mean me in my civvies and you in your leathers."

 

Oliver sits up at this little nugget of information, short hair flattened on one side, and his face twists into confusion.

 

"What?"

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Felicity is on the foundry's secure network she is completely aware of how viral the picture has gone. And how intelligent the paparazzi are despite their chosen occupation.

 

Some brilliant little media leech had decided to do some research into the police investigation on the Hood and managed to recover her sealed record from when Detective Lance had brought her in for questioning all those years ago. Being the only female not running around the city in a mask to ever be connected with the hooded vigilante as well as being blonde made her suspect number one -apparently.

 

Sara was not being sympathetic on the matter. At all. She was currently bent over at the waist and laughing like she hadn't spent half a decade being physically and mentally tortured.

 

"Tempestuous temptress brings vigilante to his knees. Blonde bombshell assaults hooded hero on rooftop." She makes an excited noise, "Here's my favorite - Criminal caught by Cupid's arrow. They sure do have the alliteration down."

 

Felicity moves her chair to block Sara from the computer screen, the former assassin neatly stepping away from the wheels that attempt to run over her feet. "Reading the headlines aloud is really not necessary. Shouldn't we be a little more worried about this?"

 

John comes out from the back, following Oliver, and glances at the screen.

 

"Sure. We'll have to be extra careful to not stick our necks out too far, but the way this picture has spread what can we do? They don't have any proof just wild speculation." Sometimes, Felicity hates how logical Diggle is about security matters.

 

Oliver bends over to kiss her on the cheek, "Until the heat dies down, we won't let any reporters near you."

 

Felicity crosses her arms and makes a disgruntled noise.

 

"For a bunch of heroes you all certainly aren't _leaping_ to save the damsel."

 

Oliver laughs, resting his chin on the top of her head.

 

Her name doesn't appear in too many articles and over the next week, thanks to a Diggle-approved security detail, Felicity sees only the occasional glimpse of an unwelcome snoop.

 

* * *

 

 

The Starling City Police visit her on Tuesday.

 

An insistent knock on Felicity's apartment door drags her out of the shower and she walks over, feet bare, while toweling off her hair.

 

In all fairness, Felicity was expecting Oliver to come over later that night and so, she didn't really think twice about opening the door. A bad habit for someone who's been kidnapped and threatened with death multiple times. Two uniformed police officers stand in her doorway uncomfortably looking like they really don't  want to be there.

 

"Ms. Felicity Smoak?"

 

Eyes flicking back and forth between the two men, Felicity nods slowly in affirmation.

 

"We would request your presence downtown for questioning about your connections to the Hood. "

 

Her eyes widen and this is getting absolutely ridiculous. Tabloids and entertainment reporters are one thing - they'll chase anything that someone will read whether its true or not, but the police are a legitimate governmental power. A legitimate governmental power wants to know who she was kissing last Friday night.

 

"And by request you probably mean demand?" The taller of the two tries to offer an encouraging smile, but Felicity just twists her mouth petulantly and sighs, reaching sideways to grab her coat.

 

This is how she ends up downtown in bacon pajama pants at 11 pm on a Tuesday.

 

She's placed in a room and asked to wait, "A detective will be right with you, Ma'am."

 

It's more than she could hope for when Quentin Lance walks in an hour later. Seeing him is a breath of fresh air among all the other cops who are either laughing or giving her awkward stares - most likely wondering why she's been kissing a guy who runs around in green leather pants for a hobby.

 

The detective lets the door click behind him, walking into the room.

 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I just got told you were here. How you holding up?"

 

Lifting her head, Felicity looks at him and does her best-grumpy cat impression, a deep frown marring her tired face.

 

He lets out a tiny snort.

 

"Why am I here?"

 

"No good reason. Suits up top got wind of those articles floating around and they wanted us to take a second look at you." Lance sounds utterly bored with a dash of amusement and that's comforting.

 

"By your tone I'm guessing I shouldn't be too concerned?" She raises an eyebrow in question.

 

"Nah. They don't have anything. They're just fishing to please the brass. Coffee?" He grins at her, watching Felicity bury her head into her arms and mumble a soft please.

 

Lance moves closer and pats her softly on the back. "You need to be a little more careful about who you're kissing."

 

There's something in his voice that reminds her he's had two daughters fall to heartbreak with Oliver, but Felicity just raises her head, looks him in the eye and shrugs. That seems to be enough for Quentin so, he exits the room and goes to get her that coffee.

 

Laurel arrives about another hour later, looking impeccable as ever despite it being nearly one in the morning. It was a wise decision for Oliver to hire her on retainer - having a lawyer who was uncomfortably familiar with their night time activities had been surprisingly useful and saved them a lot of time. ( _Roy also had a bad habit of still being picked up on misdemeanors every once in a while. Well-meaning misdemeanors, but misdemeanors none-the-less_ ).  Detective Lance gives his daughter a quick hug before standing back and watching her lay into the poor sap who happens to be in charge of Felicity's holding.

 

From what Felicity can hear through the door Laurel threatens to sue the department for wrongful holding, illegal seizure, and _all-around stupidity._

 

After three cups of coffee, two hours of waiting and an hour of questioning Felicity is able to stumble into her apartment at two in the morning on a Wednesday with a bazillion missed calls from Oliver. She sends a quick text to him explaining her absence and falls into bed.

 

* * *

If you assumed it would end after being released by the police it wouldn't have been a horrible conclusion to draw - unfortunately for Felicity, it just would've been wrong.

 

Isabel's assistant calls in sick two days later.

 

"I'm doing what?" Felicity's glasses slip to the edge of her nose so she can look dubiously over the frame of them.

 

Oliver cringes, reluctant to repeat the statement. "Isabel... requested your assistance today due to the upcoming investor's meeting she's putting together."

 

It's unfortunate, but pragmatic which basically sums up Isabel Rochev's existence. After an entire day of Felicity following after the cold-hearted executive ( _who walks far too well in five-inch heels - further proof to Felicity that she's not human_ ) they find themselves heading towards the ground floor garage. When the two women reach their destination it's a silent graveyard, and Felicity is quick to drop the paperwork into Isabel's backseat so she can join those more fortunate employees who have already gone home.

 

"You're help was appreciated today." Isabel gives her a long once-over, dragging her eyes up and down, and Felicity has to fight the urge to grimace uncomfortably. "Thank you."

 

Isabel had been doing this a lot lately, as if some epiphany about Felicity's usefulness had come over her and she now kept a close eye on Oliver's EA. An awkwardly close, nearing sexual harassment eye.

 

Felicity gives a tired wave watching the small, black sports car drive off toward the exit before turning to head back to the elevators. After pressing the button she stands back and relaxes against a pillar, enjoying the peaceful moment. Her eyes catch a flash to the left and she's suddenly face to face with a woman dressed in far too little clothing to be an effective mugger. A tiny, portable recorder bumps Felicity's nose and she stumbles backwards at the invasion of space.

 

"Ms. Smoak, care to comment on the recent allegations about you and the vigilante?"

 

"What?"

 

"How about when you were arrested three years ago by SCPD in connection with the Hood? What about the more recent arrest two days ago? "

 

Felicity waves her hands, attempting to put space between her and the pushy reporter.

 

"I wasn't arrested, either time, and I was released - both times! It was a mistake."

 

The elevator pings and Felicity scrambles for the doors before physically blocking the other woman from entering. Staring her down viciously, Felicity finally gets her wits about, "Leave me alone. I have no special relationship with the Arrow outside of grateful Starling City citizen."

 

The doors close with a gentle ding and Felicity breathes a sigh of relief, enjoying the eighteen floor ride up. Oliver's waiting for her when she walks into his office, already packed and ready to go. He notices how frazzled she looks and immediately recognizes that something happened.

 

"What's wrong? Isabel?"

 

Felicity swallows before going to stand next to him, leaning on his desk. "Nope. I just had an interesting encounter in the depths of the garage. Reporter got past security."

 

"What." Oliver's face flatlines angrily.

 

"Yeah - it wasn't bad or anything. She just bum-rushed me. You know, I always thought my first paparazzi encounter would be because I'm sleeping with a billionaire, not because I was caught kissing the Arrow."

 

Oliver frowns at her, standing up to hold her hand. "Don't say it like that."

 

She peers over at him, confused. "Like what?"

 

"Like we're not - like us... Felicity you're not just my assistant and I'm not just your boss. We're more than what everyone sees."

 

Oliver stands with his shoulders hunched, and Felicity steps closer to him and wraps her arms around his neck, leaning up to nudge his face with her nose so he looks at her.

 

"Oliver. I know that. It was a joke. A joke in bad taste, but you're going to have to get used to that because, god knows, my brain and mouth are not connected at all." She kisses him lightly on the mouth, "I wouldn't trade an eternity of paparazzi-free days for a moment without you. You can't get rid of me that easily. Okay?"

 

He tips his forehead against hers and sighs, "Yeah. I'm just sorry you have to go through this."

 

"So am I. No offense to John and his big, buff friends but I miss being able to walk around without an entourage."

 

Oliver raises a questioning eyebrow, blowing out a frustrated puff of air. "It's got to end soon, right?"

 

"Well. I actually had a thought about that. It's a long shot, but it might get them to go away."

 

* * *

 

 

Oliver's in the shower when the first knock comes. He pauses massaging the shampoo into his hair, but they had both agreed beforehand that he should stay out of sight.

 

Cecil, the doorman, has Felicity's express permission to allow every reporter up who attempted to cross the threshold and last Oliver had seen of his girlfriend she had been leaning against the foyer wall, biting her thumbnail absently, while waiting for the first of the intrepid insects to arrive.

 

A louder knock reverberates through the apartment, and Felicity begins to hear several voices outside her door. Peering through the peephole, she sees about half a dozen men and women standing in the hallway, one of whom she recognizes as the lady who ambushed her in the Queen Consolidated garage.

 

Any hopes that she would be able to quietly hand them the lie her and Oliver had concocted goes down the drain as she is greeted by about twenty different questions as soon as they see her.

 

_"Ms. Smoak are you in a relationship with the Vigilante?"_

_"How do you respond to people calling you a crazy fan?"_

_"Are you pregnant with the Hood's child?”_

_"Does he wear green leather during the daytime as well?_

 

An angry hiss of air passes her lips and Felicity draws herself up to her full height ( _all five foot four inches without heels_ ), "You want the truth? That is me in the picture! The Arrow saved me and he's hot and I overreacted. I don't know anything about him except that he saved my life! End of story. I wasn't talking to any of you because I was embarrassed. Sorry for wanting to save myself from being ridiculed! "

 

The group of reporters goes quiet and the one Felicity had encountered days earlier raises her hand. Felicity points to her, face steeled intimidatingly, "Yes. You."

 

"The Arrow? I thought the vigilante was going by The Hood moniker."

 

Felicity clears her throat and backs down, licking her lips nervously at the slip up. She goes to lean against her doorway, arms crossed defensively. "Well it's uh what he called himself. The Arrow, um Green Arrow."

 

The journalist lowers her head and writes the name down on a pad. This is front page news.

 

* * *

 

 

Oliver sits on the bed, waiting for her, towel covering the bare necessities, knee bouncing impatiently. When she walks through the door he makes a motion to stand, but Felicity comes forward and crawls into his lap.

 

"That bad?" He asks.

 

"Eh." A noncommittal shrug of the shoulders, "Besides having to fight an overwhelming urge to go Jack Nicholson on their asses and scream 'you can't handle the truth' I think it went well. I think they bought it."

 

"Good. I uh brought something to celebrate how enthusiastic a fan of the Arrow you are."

 

Oliver reaches lazily behind him and pulls out his mask, letting it swing from one finger.

 

Felicity smiles deviously and takes the mask, tucking it around his head and letting her nails trace the tiny hairs behind his ears before catching his eyes behind the dark green polymer.

 

"You're Green Arrow now, by the way."

 

Oliver begins to question her, but it devolves into a strangled moan as she quickly ducks her head, dropping a kiss to his neck and sucking lightly. Felicity leaves a trail of hickeys down his body, until Oliver pulls her back up, lips slanting hard over hers, demanding attention.

 

"Ms. Smoak, this is no way to thank someone for saving your life."

 

His voice is husky and teasing, a combination of Green Arrow and Oliver Queen, and Felicity grins brightly, laughing. She loves it when he wears the mask to bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Felicity Smoak becomes a 'trusted anonymous source' in the next articles that run as the whole city becomes aware of the vigilante hero's new name and forgets the blonde woman who kissed him.

 

"Fame is fickle." Felicity sighs, curled up into Oliver's naked side as he drags a finger down her bare spine.

 


End file.
